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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27834412">fair sky above, kind road below</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_yarn/pseuds/orange_yarn'>orange_yarn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Jim Henson's The Dark Crystal Series - J.M. Lee, The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Miscommunication</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:08:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27834412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_yarn/pseuds/orange_yarn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Deet asks Kylan to help her write a song for someone special. Kylan assumes the song is meant for Rian. It is not.</p><p>(Oneshot, set post-AOR. A birthday gift for a very dear friend.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Deet/Kylan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fair sky above, kind road below</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofadeawayagain/gifts">tofadeawayagain</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Something I have learned while working on my longfic, is that sometimes you accidentally wind up shipping just, an extremely rare pairing. Also, sometimes you rope your very good friend into this rarepair, and then you yell about it on Discord all the time and really things just spiral from there. SO, may I present to you, maybe the first? official Deet/Kylan fic on ao3-- or, as a friend on the server started calling it: Groth (grot + broth, lolololol).</p><p>This fic is a birthday present for @tofadeawayagain. In episode six, Deet says, “That’s what friends do. We help.” She was talking, I think, about people like Fade-- someone who never hesitates to offer a listening ear, who reminds me to be kind to myself, and who isn’t afraid of hard talk when I need it. We’ve only known each other a few months, but I think she just might be the truest friend I’ve ever had. 💖💖💖 Love you lots, Fade! Please accept my humble Groth offering.</p><p>Set in the amorphous post-AOR Resistance times. This is not connected to my big WIP strange trails, so don’t worry, there’s no required reading. I know that work is a beast, lololol. Title is from “Promises” off the Hadestown soundtrack. No warnings, except for my poor attempts at songwriting. Yeah, for real. Sorry in advance. 😉</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>-+-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> fair sky above, kind road below </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-+-</p><p> </p><p>The campfire crackles and spits as Kylan feeds in kindling, hoping to stave off the early autumn chill. It’s another long night watch at the last Resistance outpost in the Dark Woods. This past trine has been long and grueling, and they’ve lost ground and lives and morale-- but they've dug in their heels, here on the southern edge of the woods, and held this line for nearly three unum now. This position is a crucial one-- the next push south will send them all the way across the open plains, and into the Sog, and after that, there’s nowhere else to go.</p><p>For the first time in weeks, the night is clear and bright, and Kylan is grateful for it. The moons and stars are reflected in the inky depths of the river, flowing gently here at one of its widest points. To the north and south, he can catch glimpses of other flickering campfires-- more members of the watch, keeping a careful eye on their perimeter, keeping their friends back at camp safe, and keeping the hope for the Resistance alive for another day. He can’t see much further than that-- even with the bright moonlight, Kylan’s eyes cannot pierce the darkness that presses in all around him. Instead, he listens-- for the clicking, clattering Garthim, for the flutter of a Crystal Bat’s wings, for anything that might bring harm to the people he loves.</p><p>A branch snaps to the west, and Kylan snaps to attention, his hand going to his shortsword. Whatever it is, it's coming from inside the perimeter, so he’s expecting a wild beast rather than one of the SkekSis’ foul creations. It turns out to be neither, as a familiar Gelfling climbs out of the bramble.</p><p>“Deet,” he breathes, loosening his grip on the blade. He hastily returns it to its sheath as his Grottan friend dusts off her skirts, and grins up at him. “What are you doing out here? Do you have the next watch?” He glances up at the moons, notes their place in the sky-- there’s nearly an hour left in his shift, and anyway--</p><p>“No, Naia still won’t let me,” Deet says with a sour expression, standing right on the edge of the firelight. Kylan only nods, with a careful glance at the bandages wrapped from Deet’s palms to her elbows, covering the tendrils of Darkening that writhe just below her skin-- proof of her pact with the Sanctuary Tree, and the price she paid to save them all from the Emperor’s wrath.</p><p>Kylan can’t say he blames Naia for keeping Deet out of the rotation-- it’s been a difficult trine for everyone, but Deet’s struggled the most. She fought hard to get control of the Darkening, but was still prone to...outbursts. On a bad day, that meant sparking hands and flashing purple eyes. On the worst days, that meant leaving a smoking purple crater where a Garthim and a dozen trees once stood, and falling into an eerie silence for nearly a full week. It’s been two unum since her last major relapse, and while Deet is as bright and cheerful as ever, it’s impossible not to think of how much she's been through. None of them deserve the hand that they’ve been dealt, <em> especially </em>not Deet.</p><p>“But, anyway,” Deet says, her smile returning as she reaches up, and pulls a twig from her frizzy hair. “Enough about that. Kylan! You’re just the Gelfling I was looking for!”</p><p>“I am?” Kylan asks, as Deet steps lightly over the branches littering the ground, only to drop down to sit beside Kylan on his fallen log. “Is something the matter?”</p><p>“No, everything’s fine.” When Kylan frowns, Deet pats his leg and says, “<em>Relax </em>, Kylan. Maybe I just wanted to spend time with my favorite Song-Teller.”</p><p>“You don’t know any other Song-Tellers,” Kylan points out, his heart pounding as he stares down at Deet’s hand, still resting on his knee. “I suppose I’ve only won by default.”</p><p>Deet is-- she’s unlike anyone Kylan has ever met. Her gentle nature and selfless spirit inspires him to see the world with just a little more grace, even in these grim times. Her wide-eyed wonder for the world overground reminds him to appreciate the beauty and majesty of simple moments. Her laugh is just as sweet as any song or melody, her eyes are windows to the kindest soul he’s ever known. He wants to write a song for her, but for the first time in his life, his talents fail him, and every attempt leaves him staring at a blank page, his fingers fumbling over his strings. He is hopelessly in love with her, and helpless to do anything about it. </p><p>“Well,” Deet says, drawing out the word as she clasps her hands together, tucking them under her chin and turning her gaze on him. This close, he can see the campfire and all the stars reflected in her eyes, and it's almost enough to take his breath away. “You really are my favorite, that’s true, <em>but...</em>I was hoping you might help me with something?”</p><p>“I'd be happy to,” Kylan answers, without hesitation. He glances out towards the river and then back towards the woods, and says, “I’ve got some time left on my watch, but as soon as it’s over--”</p><p>“Oh, we can do it right here, I think,” Deet cuts in. Her eyes go even wider with excitement, and she adds, “I can even help you keep watch! I can see much better in the dark than you can. Naia just doesn’t want me out here alone, I think.”</p><p>“Alright.” There’s no arguing with that, and besides, he’s loath to say anything that might make Deet leave. “How can I help?”</p><p>“I want to write a song,” Deet tells him, and that feeling in Kylan’s chest trills again. It’s no secret that Deet loves music-- he thinks that’s what first drew him to her, that kinship, that connection, that shared passion for lyric and rhythm. Deet’s always the first to join him in song, from that first night on the edge of the Crystal Desert, to countless moments around the campfire this past trine. She hums while she works, she’s always ready with a favorite request, or a song of her own. She loves to dance, on those rare nights of revelry around a bonfire, celebrating their hard-fought victories in this fight for their lives. Her feet are light, her joy infectious as she pulls the others in to dance with her-- usually Amri, or Gurjin, or Hup, occasionally Rian or Brea-- and once and only once, Naia. She’s never asked Kylan-- he’s the Song-Teller, after all, his fingers too busy strumming a lute or plucking a lyre, his eyes tracing Deet’s graceful steps as he imagines what it would be like to take her hand in his.</p><p>“Kylan?”</p><p>He coughs, blinking back out of his thoughts, and focuses on Deet once more. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “What sort of song do you want to write?”</p><p>For a moment, Deet falters. She takes a deep breath and breaks his gaze, staring instead down into her lap, picking at a frayed thread on her bandages. “I want to write a song for someone special,” she admits, with a nervous glance back up at him. “I want to tell him how I feel. How I’ve <em> felt</em>, for a while now.”</p><p>In an instant, all his thoughts of Deet and dancing turn to ash and float away. It hits him like a crushing blow, and he curses himself for letting himself forget for so long. This is the reason his heart is heavy with the weight of this secret, why he’s never told anyone how Deet makes him feel, not even Naia. Because at the end of the day, no matter how many songs he’d like to write, no matter the words and tales he’d like to spin, Deet’s heart is already spoken for. </p><p>It’s obvious how much Deet cares for Rian, and why she spends so much time by his side-- why wouldn’t she? The brave, dashing Stonewood hero was the only one to go after Deet when the Darkening took her-- he brought her home, to the people who could love and heal her. It had been a few weeks since anyone had seen him-- he and Hup were up north, on a reconnaissance mission, and due to return home any day. They’ve all felt their friends’ absence-- surely Deet’s been feeling it most of all.</p><p>Even though his own heart aches, Kylan has no ill will for Rian-- he’s one of Kylan’s closest friends, after all, and kind and brave and good, a linchpin of their Resistance. And more than that, Kylan wants every happiness for Deet-- and if winning Rian’s heart will bring her that, then Kylan will help her, and he'll do it gladly.</p><p>It takes him a moment to realize that Deet’s jumped to her feet, pacing back and forth in front of the flames as she continues, “--I’ve tried talking to him, but it never comes out right. Naia says hard talk is best, but--”</p><p>“--You’ve talked to Naia about this?” Kylan asks, surprised. It seems an odd choice, considering Naia and Rian’s famously heated arguments over nearly every decision, no matter how large or how small. Certainly Gurjin would have been the wiser choice, or perhaps Brea, who everyone knew Rian treated as a sister. Perhaps Deet was concerned about them keeping secrets-- he’d trust either Gelfling with his life, but a surprise? Not so much. He shakes his head, and says, “That’s alright. I don’t think Naia realizes that hard talk doesn’t come as easily to the other clans as it does to the Drenchen.”</p><p>“It <em> really </em>doesn’t,” Deet agrees, looking exasperated. She plants herself between Kylan and the campfire, wringing her hands as she asks, “So...will you help me, Kylan?”</p><p>Kylan lets himself hold on the thought for just a moment longer-- Deet light and free as she dances, backlit by the roaring bonfire, and himself, for once brave enough to stand up and ask for her hand. A moment after that, he lets the thought go. He’d do anything to make Deet happy, anything. Even this. </p><p>“Of course,” he says, patting the space beside him, beckoning for her to sit, and earning a wide, relieved smile in return. “Let’s get started.”</p><p> </p><p>-+-</p><p> </p><p>“How about this?” Deet says, waving her hand through the air in a messy arc. She’s lying on her back now, sprawled across the log with her head in Kylan’s lap-- a fact he is working <em> very </em> hard to ignore, keeping his attention firmly on his dream-etching. “Can we put something about how he always knows the right thing to say?”</p><p>Kylan hums and nods, committing the words to the page. The gears in his mind work, turning the thought into a lyric that will do their friend justice. Rian’s charisma and inspiring speeches had gotten them all through some troubling times. Kylan thinks of the night he spoke to them all through the flames, uniting the seven Gelfling clans as one. If he can’t find a song in <em> that</em>, Kylan’s not sure he deserves the title of Song-Teller after all. </p><p>“Kylan?” Deet asks, and he looks down into her face as she blinks up at him. She’s biting her lip, and for once, her expression is unreadable. “What do you think? About the song so far?”</p><p>“Well.” Kylan takes a moment, and scans over the list they’ve compiled so far. Some of Deet’s suggestions are spot-on-- <em> handsome</em>, <em> courageous</em>, <em> noble</em>, <em> loyal</em>, <em> kind </em> -- while a few of the others were a little more...surprising. The word <em> patient </em> had given him the most pause-- the Rian he knows is brash and bold, and rarely hesitates-- even when it would be best for him to take a breath, and wait. But then again, Kylan reasoned, Deet probably sees a different side of Rian, and so he transcribed that thought just as faithfully as all the rest. “I think it’s going alright, so far. Still a bit of work to do, but. We’ve got a good start.”</p><p>“Right.” Deet sighs and shifts, getting comfortable once more. She closes her eyes in thought, only to open them again barely a second later. “Oh, oh!” she exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement. He focuses on her words, and not the way her hair frames her face, or how her nose wrinkles up in concentration. “He’s <em> very </em>wise, and well-read. He knows every story, I’ll bet. That should <em>definitely</em> go in the song.”</p><p>“Can Rian read?” Kylan wonders aloud, and then he immediately feels guilty for his doubt. Most written correspondences, few as they were, went right to Brea, while Rian took verbal or dreamfasted reports from their soldiers. But then again, Rian’s position as the captain’s son afforded him some privileges, to be sure, so maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised.</p><p>“Rian?” Deet echoes, sitting up and staring Kylan down. “Who said anything about Rian?”</p><p>“You-- you did.” Kylan’s hands fall still, the glow from his dream-etching flickering once, and then fading away. “Isn’t-- the song is for him, isn’t it?” For the first time all evening, doubt creeps into his heart. Could he have misread Deet’s intention somehow? She never did <em> say </em> Rian’s name, he’d only assumed. But who else would she want to confess her feelings for, if not Rian? His mind grinds to a halt, and his anxiety threatens to bubble and boil over. “Deet?”</p><p>“Oh, I see.” Realization settles over Deet’s face. For a split second, her usual cheer evaporates, and she looks crestfallen. The second after that, her smile is firmly back in place, though it’s clearly forced. “Of course, silly me. <em> I </em>brought him up.”</p><p>Kylan shakes his head, grasping for traction and finding none. “If you don’t like the song, we can start over,” he offers, unsure how this all went so wrong, and feeling guilty for it all the same.</p><p>“No, that’s-- it’s fine.” Deet hurries to her feet, suddenly on-edge and jittery. “You know, you’re right, I ought to find out if Rian can even read. I’ll go ask around.”</p><p>“Deet--”</p><p>“--I could ask Gurjin,” Deet presses on, ignoring him as her agitation only grows. He sees a flickering purple glow, the Darkening’s veins shining right through her bandages, and then her eyes flash once. Kylan’s breath catches in his throat, but Deet clenches and unclenches her hands, and takes a few measured breaths. The purple light fades, and the moment passes, and the chittering woods around them come back to life-- Kylan hadn’t even realized how silent it had gone. Deet takes one more heaving breath, and then asks, “Do you think Gurjin would know?”</p><p>“He might,” Kylan agrees, his eyes still locked on Deet’s hands. He’s not afraid <em> of </em> her, he never has been and he never will be-- but he is afraid <em> for </em> her, and afraid of what the Darkening could do, if it overtook her again. “Deet, if I’ve done something to offend you--”</p><p>“You haven’t,” Deet cuts in swiftly, uncharacteristically serious. She reaches out and brushes fingertips against the back of Kylan’s hand-- he takes hers without hesitation, and holds on tight, even as the Darkening hums faintly beneath her skin. Deet gives his hand a gentle squeeze, and says, “You were only trying to help me, because you’re such a good friend. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”</p><p>“Deet--” Kylan tries, but for the third time tonight, all he can manage is her name-- not because she stops him, but because the words are lodged in his throat. He wants to tell her that time spent with her is never wasted, that he would keep her company forever and always if she let him, but in the end, all that comes out is, “Do you want me to finish the song?”</p><p>“No, that’s alright.” Deet drops his hand, and steps back towards the treeline. “Come to think of it, I’m not even sure if Rian<em> likes </em>songs. I--” There’s a hitch in her voice, and she stares at him for just one second more before she turns and flees into the woods, leaving Kylan dumbfounded, with a parchment in his hand and a hollow ache in his heart.</p><p> </p><p>-+-</p><p> </p><p>Nearly half an hour passes before the next guard comes to relieve him, allowing Kylan to make the long hike back to camp. He picks his way through the underbrush and creeping branches, his path lit only by a dim torch, and his mind heavy with doubt. He does his best to focus on his surroundings-- he’s not expecting Garthim or Crystal Bats, not inside their tightly held perimeter, but there’s plenty of flora and fauna here in the Dark Woods that would make a meal of him, if given half the chance. He keeps his eyes up and his ears open, and makes his way home as quickly and quietly as he can.</p><p>It’s a relief, to finally catch sight of their encampment through the breaks in the trees. He quickens his pace, and within moments he finds himself back in the place he’s called home these past few unum. This town was one of the earliest ravaged by the Garthim, and many of the buildings were badly damaged. The most intact structures have been reinforced and repaired, and tents and temporary shelters were set up after the rubble of the rest was cleared away. Still, as nice as it’s felt to put down some roots, at least for a little while, every Gelfling here is ready to pull up stakes and move at a moment’s notice. Until then, all they can do is keep fighting, and hope every day that the tides of this war finally turn in their favor.</p><p>“Kylan?” </p><p>He blinks at the sound of his name, snapping out of his thoughts and worries just in time to see Gurjin, moving towards him at speed. His Drenchen friend practically barrels into him, pulling him into a crushing hug that nearly forces the air from his lungs.</p><p>“For Thra’s sake, Kylan!” Gurjin exclaims, holding him at arm’s length and letting him catch his breath. Relief and fading panic fight for control on his face, and Kylan’s anxiety twists once again. “We were about to send a search party!”</p><p>“What happened?” Kylan demands, trying to squirm out of Gurjin’s grip and look at their outpost with new eyes, searching for any signs of damage. It seems peaceful, here in the predawn light, quiet and calm as it should be. “Was there an attack? Is--” His stomach plummets, and his blood runs cold. “Is Deet--?”</p><p>“She got back a bit before you did.” Gurjin squeezes his shoulders again, then finally lets him go. When he speaks, Kylan can tell that he’s choosing his words carefully. “She was in a state, you know, all--” He breaks off, and mimes an explosion, and Kylan winces as he imagines her, lost once more in the Darkening's grip.</p><p>“Is she alright?” he demands, scanning their surroundings again, this time looking for any sign of his friend. He thinks of her back at the campfire, that flash of purple in her eyes. He let her rush off when she was clearly upset-- he should have put aside his own hurt feelings and awkwardness to make sure she was alright. He should have--</p><p>“She’s fine,” Gurjin assures him. He nods towards one of the nearby buildings, just as the front door swings open, and Naia steps out. Her eyes narrow as she catches sight of them, and her shoulders relax as she lays eyes on Kylan. He focuses on Gurjin once more as he continues, “Amri’s with her, and she’s already calming down. Not sure if she’s back to talking just yet, but she’s through the worst of it already. Found him,” he adds over his shoulder, as Naia closes in and reaches for Kylan.</p><p>“I’m alright, Naia,” Kylan insists, as she runs practiced hands across his shoulders and down his arms, inspecting him for injuries. He knows better than to argue with her, and lets his thoughts wander as she checks him over. Several pieces settle into place-- Gurjin’s panic, Deet’s episode, Naia’s fierce, focused examination-- and he has a sudden, terrible thought. “You thought she hurt me.”</p><p>“I mean, not on <em> purpose</em>,” Gurjin answers. Now that his moment of fear is over, he’s already settling back into his naturally calm demeanor, already at ease. Still, his voice is hushed and serious as he says, “But, yeah, Kylan. We were worried, for a minute there. Glad to see you’re alright.”</p><p>“Deet wouldn’t hurt me,” Kylan argues-- he’s not sure why it feels so important to make this point. The twins care for Deet too, and wouldn’t think badly of her-- they were only concerned for him. He knows that, but still. Something about it prickles the back of his neck, makes his already uneasy stomach flop.</p><p>“Deet wouldn’t,” Naia agrees, patting him on the shoulder and lightly shoving him back, apparently satisfied with his general condition. “But the Darkening doesn’t care about you, Kylan— and it would kill her if she woke up and found a crater where she'd last seen you.”</p><p>Kylan shivers at the thought, and his guilt wells up again. “This is my fault,” he admits, unable to look his friends in the eyes, focusing instead on his feet, and an exceptionally round pebble on the ground below him. “I knew I’d upset her, I shouldn’t have let her go back alone.”</p><p>“<em>You </em>upset her?” Gurjin repeats, sounding skeptical-- but then a moment later his expression shifts and sharpens. “Wait. What happened?”</p><p>Kylan hesitates, unwilling to share Deet’s business, even with their friends. Eventually he settles on, “She asked for my help with something.”</p><p>“With the song?” Gurjin prompts. Kylan’s next thought sputters and dissolves, but he manages a jerky nod. “What did you say when she told you?” </p><p>Kylan pauses, puzzling over the fact that Gurjin looks even more concerned now than he did a few minutes ago. “...Told me what?”</p><p>“A <em> song</em>?” Naia repeats, deadpan, rounding on her brother. “Please tell me this wasn’t your idea.”</p><p>“He’s a <em> Song</em>-Teller,” Gurjin argues, throwing up his hands. “It was an excellent idea. You’re just mad she liked mine better—” </p><p>It’s all Kylan can do to try and keep up with the twins and their argument, all the while running through tonight’s conversation with Deet, looking at it in a new light. There’s no way-- she can’t have-- </p><p>“I told her, hard talk.” Naia folds her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes. “No unnecessary steps, no confusion.” </p><p>“Yeah, do you think so, Naia?” Gurjin asks, gesturing once more at the house behind them. “Because Amri is <em> right inside </em>--”</p><p>“--This isn’t about me—”</p><p>Kylan tunes out the argument, sinking into his memories. He thinks of Deet, the campfire reflecting in her eyes, the way she smiled up at him. A song for someone she cared about, to tell him how she felt. Someone kind, someone patient. Someone wise.</p><p>“Oh,” Kylan says suddenly. The twins stop talking and turn to him as he presses his closed fist to his mouth as he hums a little to himself. Could Deet <em>really</em> feel that way about him? He’d hadn’t dared to imagine it before, but her words ring in his memory again. Kind. Patient. Wise. He takes a breath, and asks, “The song wasn’t for Rian, was it?”</p><p>Naia punches Gurjin in the shoulder, hard. “Next time you think you’ve gotten him obliterated,” she warns, leveling her brother with a glare before she storms off, “You had better call someone else.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Gurjin mutters, rubbing at his shoulder as Naia stomps away. He glances back at Kylan, his frustration softening into a concerned frown. “You alright there, Kylan?”</p><p>“I think so.” He thinks he might be better than alright, daring to imagine a future that had seemed impossible just a little while ago. But before that, he has to find a way to make right what went wrong tonight. “Gurjin— what do I do?” he asks with a shake of his head, fear and doubt already creeping back into his heart. “How do I tell her?”</p><p>“Well,” Gurjin says thoughtfully. He clasps Kylan’s shoulder, and grins. “Rumor has it, you’re a pretty good Song-Teller.”</p><p> </p><p>-+-</p><p> </p><p>Kylan does his best to sleep, but in the end he only manages a few hours. Eventually he stops trying, and instead spends his day holed up in his room, bent over parchment, and plucking at the strings of his lute. He’d prefer his beloved firca, especially for something so meaningful-- but he knows he’ll need his voice to tell this story the way it needs to be told.</p><p>His time, it seems, is well spent. After many unum of frustration, the lyrics practically pour out of him— everything he’s ever wanted to say to Deet, the contents of his heart laid bare. When he finally sets out, the last sun is setting, and he has a song in his heart and a lightness in his chest, ready to face what comes next.</p><p>He finds his friends clustered around a campfire, the firelight illuminating their faces as darkness settles in around them. Deet is bracketed between Amri and Gurjin, with a blanket draped over her shoulders, and a half-finished bowl of stew in her hands. The three of them are absorbed in a quiet conversation, until Deet flicks her ears, and glances up at Kylan as he approaches.</p><p>“Kylan!” Her voice is cheerful, but there’s a touch of hesitation in her eyes as she sets aside her bowl. “Are you alright? No one’s seen you all day.”</p><p>“I was working on something,” he explains. Deet nods, while Gurjin and Amri exchange a knowing glance over her head. He gives himself exactly three more seconds of self doubt, and then he clears his throat and says, “I finished your song.”</p><p>Deet goes still, and her eyes go even wider than normal. “You did?”</p><p>“I did.” Kylan stands up a little straighter, and reaches back to pull the lute slung across his shoulders up to his chest. “I’d like to play it for you, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Right.” Amri clambers to his feet, and motions for Gurjin to do the same. “Time for us to go.”</p><p>“Yeah, but— don’t you want to hear the song?” Gurjin asks, even as he follows Amri's retreating form. He winks at Deet as he goes, and offers Kylan a sloppy salute before shuffling off into the night. Their conversation fades, leaving just Kylan, and Deet, and the campfire between them. </p><p>“Kylan,” Deet says, panic creeping into her voice. “About the song--”</p><p>“--I know, Deet. I know.” Kylan lets his fingers play across the strings, feels them vibrate and hum as he plucks out a few notes. “I know how hard it can be, to say what’s in your heart. It’s hard for me, too. Especially when it’s about something important. <em>Someone</em> important.” Deet’s just watching him, something like hope settling on her face as she pulls her blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. He swallows the last of his nerves, and steels himself for what he’s about to do. Song-Telling is his gift, he reminds himself, his one area of confidence. He leans into that confidence now, as he strums a chord, and pours out his heart in the shape of story and song.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> In the tunnels of Domrak, lit by the moss glow, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lived a kind-hearted Gelfling, from a world hid below. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Left home with a message; she’d not once seen the skies, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But she greeted a new world with hope in her eyes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her beauty unmatched, but by the light of her soul, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her skin a fair green, hair like stardust and gold. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She knew not a stranger, beloved by all, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A friend to each creature, the great and the small. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Chosen by fate, and the world we call home, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With her hand in theirs, none felt lost or alone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A burning bright beacon, though she came from the dark. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She stole not a thing, save a Song-Teller’s heart. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> When danger pressed close, she took on a strange power, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A darkening spread, and stole her life by the hour. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She harnessed a force meant for death and decay, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And by strength of her will, drove the SkekSis away. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But this power, it changed her, from the girl she’d once known. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fearing for her loved ones, she slipped off on her own. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Now lost in the wild, some thought it her end. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yet one tracked her down, brought her home to her friends. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Now the nights feel less empty, the cold’s lost its bite. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With her here beside us, we do not fear the night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A much kinder soul, one could not hope to meet, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Than our dear friend, our hero, our good, gentle Deet. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The last notes fade away, the melody drifting up and away like the smoke from the campfire. There are tears in Deet’s eyes, and Kylan’s heart is in his throat. Silence stretches between them, and for one terrible moment, he’s afraid that he got it all spectacularly wrong once again.</p><p>“I know you haven’t seen him in a while,” Deet finally says, sniffing and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “But Rian doesn’t have fair green skin. And I'm not sure he’s a friend to all creatures-- you should have seen him with the Nurlocs, Kylan, he was <em> very </em>frightened.”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” Kylan says, his heart thundering as Deet stands, stepping around the fire to come close to him. “Now you’re just having fun with me.”</p><p>“A little,” Deet admits, with a coy smile. She bites her lip, and then asks, “Did you really mean all of that?”</p><p>“I did,” Kylan swears, more certain now than he’s been in his entire life as Deet slips her hands into his. For once, the lines of the Darkening are dim, as if its grip on her is a little looser. The sight loosens something in his chest, too, and he says, “I never thought you might feel the same.”</p><p>“Well then, maybe you’re not as wise as I thought,” Deet teases, and then she squeezes his hands, and pulls him into a dreamfast. He sees himself through Deet’s eyes, and realizes that all this time, she’s been watching him, too. She watches him as he gets lost in a song, as he leans into Naia’s quiet, fierce love, as he provides counsel and comfort to those who have suffered and lost. She watches him as she dances, maps the angles of his face as the firelight casts him in sharp relief. She watches him, and wishes with all her heart that she could take him by the hand, and pull him to his feet and into her orbit, and never let him go.</p><p>When the dreamfast ends, it takes Kylan two tries to speak, and in the end all he manages to ask is, “You think I’m handsome?”</p><p>Deet laughs, and stands up on her tiptoes to kiss him-- just a gentle press of her lips to his, innocent and sweet, but it’s enough to make his heart soar. His words are hopelessly lost, buried somewhere beneath the joy that fills his chest. Deet pulls away, and fills the silence for him.</p><p>“I don’t know what tomorrow will bring,” she says, looking down at her hands in his, marked by the Darkening within. Kylan squeezes her hands a little tighter, to let her know he’s not afraid, not of her. “But whatever it is, I’d like to face it with you. That’s <em> all </em>I want,” she tells him. “Well— that, and one more thing.”</p><p>“Anything.” Kylan thinks he could hang the suns and pull down the moons, if Deet asked him to. He’d rearrange the stars for her, follow her to the end of the world and back again, if it meant he could be hers. “I’ll do anything you want.”</p><p>“Can I hear the song again?” she asks, with a smile that he’d move mountains for. Kylan laughs, and drops her hands only so he can reach for his lute once more as he opens his mouth, and sings.</p><p> </p><p>-+-</p><p>END</p><p>-+-</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Look okay please be kind to me and my mediocre attempts at writing a ballad. I'm no song-teller, hahaha, but I truly did my best. I tried to research like, meter and all of that, but realized that was a bit above my paygrade. Instead, I sort of based it on the formatting of the songs from the YA novels, and mostly just had fun with it. Does it work, like, as a song? I've got no clue, friends. If it doesn't....please don't tell me, I'm actually kinda pleased with how it turned out?</p><p>ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed this silly little fluff. The happiest of birthdays, once more, to my dear friend Fade. ❤❤❤</p><p>(PS: next chapter of strange trails is still in the works, don't worry. i'll get it out in the word ASAP.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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